It was evidently on this date in 1846, that a man named Elias Howe Jr. was granted the patent for the sewing machine that would impact homes and factories ever since. I will be the first to admit that I have no earthly idea how to use one myself, but I admire those who do. It seems to require patience, precision, the keenest eye, and a flare of creativity…none of which are in my personal wheelhouse even with all the Holy Spirit assistance. Nevertheless, for those who are not only capable, but thrive off such a craft, they very much help the rest of us ensure that our daily living can go on as normal. Now, of the few I have seen over the years, there is one sewing machine I remember the most.
As a bit of background, I am the youngest of four, so it’s nearly a Divine insistence that I would be a momma’s boy. I’ve been told I was spoiled rotten, which seems to be par for the earthly course with most families with multiple children. I’ve also been told that I didn’t exactly keep to myself when things didn’t go my way. I’ve also been informed that I didn’t have the broadest tastebuds in willing to try new things in the food realm. Evidently, I was a handful in my youngest years (perhaps still am to some degree now, but minor detail) for my parents and older siblings, and that was most likely only magnified for the one who would be responsible making sure my antics didn’t go too outrageously far when my mom went back to preschool-teaching (as if she didn’t have enough fun with her youngest on the home font).
So, yes, my babysitter had to deal with my picky-eating and scheming everything I possibly could to avoid haircuts and whatever random tantrums along the way, and she did so with patience and care and love and compassion, and I still have no earthly idea why or how. About as beyond my understanding as to grasping how she could do anything on that sewing machine of hers. But on that contraption was time for patience and care and love and compassion to be magnified. After all, as with many sewers, they often take on time-consuming and sometimes pain-staking work for others: from family and friends to friends of friends and even for complete strangers they will never meet. For some projects, the time-consumption can last for days, weeks, months, which I would envision to be thoroughly pain-staking on the mind, to say the least. And yet, with patience, precision, the keenest eye, and a flare of creativity, they remain committed to an often taken-for-granted craft that helps the rest of us go on about our daily living as normal.
When I supposedly got old enough to be (somewhat) responsible to be on my own, and eventually leading to high school and college and beyond, whenever there was a mishap on the clothing front, the first contact was to her. Sure, a simple purchase could have been made to replace that particular item, but there was something nostalgic or heart-warming or even a level of blessed assurance to be able to send that piece back to the place that had a role in shaping me to some means of better-ness.
And I imagine that the sewers among us (including our own beloved Happy Sew & Sews, who meet on Thursdays at Divinity) have a rather humble connection to the Divine. That no matter the mishap done, there will always be the possibility of new life. And even if the particular item can’t be somewhat made back to normal, it can be combined with other items seemingly given up on, to create another craft that will be delightfully heart-warming to someone else. Perhaps on a sewing machine, comes the holy and persistent sound of grace: that what may seem like nothingness to us less-than-novices, is an opportunity for beauty to emerge. And yes, with God, there is a patience for us through all our years of…not always the most pleasant human behavior. And there is this precision in adoring every little stitch of our being, and there is this keenest eye in seeing all the ways we can bring further beauty to this world, and there is this holy flare of creativity in perhaps nudging whatever person in our life to help us believe it. Perhaps at a sewing machine is the most heart-warming witness that the sewer is thoroughly convinced that the recipient is more than worth their time and sometimes even pain to their very bones, even if the sewer’s eyes will never see the joy on the receiving end. Perhaps at a sewing machine comes yet another taken-for-granted way that the Gospel can be brought to life. So, for Elias Howe, Jr., and all the patient-beyond-my-understanding sewers since, thanks be to God, indeed!
In Christ,
Pastor Brad